Birthright
by Nightfoot
Summary: Flynn reads his mother's diary and discovers a startling truth about his own past.


This isn't really a serious headcanon, more of a "Hey, what if..." idea I had.

* * *

**Birthright**

Flynn lay on the floor, because he'd actually reached the point that his desk wasn't big enough to hold all his papers. This was impressive, because his desk was enormous. Spread out on his office floor were maps, lists of troops, monster reports, and past updates. All of this was supposed to help him decide how many knights to send to Mantaic and how many to send to Halure, but all it told him was that there were more monsters than there were knights, and deciding which town to send more protection to made him feel like a terrible person.

His task caused him so much distress that he actually welcomed the distraction when Yuri slammed open the door and strode in. "Hey, Flynn, guess what I-" his eyes lowered. "Why are you on the floor?"

"It's more comfortable." He pushed himself up to sit cross-legged. "What were you saying?"

"Guess what I found." He held it up proudly and plopped to the ground across from Flynn, a field of maps between them.

Flynn eyed the object. "It looks like a book. Given that you've never been a particularly voracious reader, I can't imagine what book would get you so excited."

"It's a very special book." Yuri grinned. "I was helping Hanks clean out his attic when I found it. He said I should give it to you."

Flynn was getting pretty irritated with Yuri dragging this out when he really did have work to do. He didn't have to say it, though, because Yuri read the grumpiness on his face and relented.

"This is none other than the personal diary of one Helen Scifo."

Flynn's heart skipped a beat. Ok, he had to admit that Yuri had caught his interest. "You found Mom's diary?"

"Yeah. I haven't even looked at it yet, past the front page." Yuri flipped open the cover and showed Flynn, saying, "She started it when she first became pregnant with you."

Flynn recognized the neat, curving handwriting immediately. He'd seen it often enough in his childhood, in notes left for him on the table or grocery lists hastily shoved into his pocket. He hadn't expected to ever see it again, and now he could picture her so clearly, sitting at a table and carefully penning her name and the date, one hand rubbing her stomach as she thought about the life she was bringing into the world. He could almost feel her presence and it made his chest ache at the thought that these words were all he had left of her. He held out his hand. "May I have it?"

"Hold on, this might be good." Yuri flipped through the pages. "Let's see, still pregnant… still pregnant… ok I think you've been born by this point but I haven't yet so really what's the point of the world…."

"Yuri, please give it to me." He held out his hand a little more insistently.

"Oh, look at this. 'Flynn wouldn't eat his peas this morning. It was such a struggle to get any food into him. He can really be so demanding at times.' Aw, weren't you a little brat?"

"Yuri!" He'd had enough of Yuri's shit-eating grin, but fear of wrinkling his maps kept him from tackling him and taking the diary for himself.

"Let's see if there are any _really_ embarrassing baby stories in here." Yuri flipped through the pages with glee, until he stopped and said, "Oh, your first birthday! This has to be adorable. Just imagine, baby Flynn all chubby-cheeked and stupid, probably face-planting into the cake…"

Flynn gave up trying to get it back from Yuri. He was afraid of actually trying to fight him for it, since that might risk damaging the diary. He'd let Yuri have his fun and then treasure the diary on his own later tonight.

"Let's see," Yuri said, settling into the page. "'Today was Flynn's first birthday. Everyone came by to wish us the best. Mr. and Mrs. Hanks brought him a stuffed bear, and he's already nearly chewed the ear off. It's hard to believe it's been an entire year. A year ago, I thought I would never be able to say this, but I truly have come to love this child, even though…'" Yuri stopped reading and stared at the page.

"Yuri?" Flynn said breathlessly. His heart clenched at that last line. She… she didn't think she'd be able to love him when he was born? What did that mean? The answer lay in whatever was beyond 'even though', but Yuri's fingers clenched around the book and he hadn't continued reading yet. Fear spiked. "Yuri… what does it say?"

"We shouldn't be reading this," Yuri said thickly, lowering the book. "It's private."

Flynn's hands shook. He wanted to rewind the world to a minute ago before he'd heard that last sentence, but it was too late and he would never be able to rest until he found out how it ended. "Yuri." His voice shook. "Tell me what it says."

Yuri hesitated, gave Flynn a nervous look, coughed, and then slowly finished reading. "'A year ago, I thought I would never be able to say this, but I truly have come to love this child, even though he isn't mine.'"

Flynn stared at Yuri. No words came to mind. All he could think was 'he isn't mine'. What did that mean? He knew what it meant. More importantly, _how_ could it be true? "I… but… I was _adopted_?"

"Flynn… geeze, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have read this to you. This isn't how you should have found out." Yuri's eyes were as shocked as his own.

"Give me that." He held out his hand, and Yuri passed the diary to him without a word. Flynn turned to the first page and began reading.

_Today was a wonderful day. I went to the midwife and she confirmed it – I really am with child! I've written to Finath already. Oh, I wish he could be here to celebrate with me. I suppose I should be grateful enough for the time he had off two months ago that allowed this little miracle to happen. I've decided to start this diary to record my thoughts, and maybe one day I will give it to my son or daughter._

It went on, talking about the rest of her day and all her plans for the child she was carrying. It didn't make sense. If she had been pregnant, why would she say that Flynn wasn't hers? What had happened? He needed to skip ahead, to find the pages that covered his actual birth. He flipped through the pages so quickly they blurred, and twenty-one-year-old dust tickled his nose.

Yuri slowly rose to his feet. "I'll leave you alone for now."

Flynn paused to look up. "I… thanks, Yuri."

"I'll be with Estelle. If you want to talk… you can find me."

"All right. Thanks. And… don't tell Lady Estellise."

"Yeah, of course, I'll leave that to you."

Yuri left, but Flynn was already engrossed in the book by the time the door closed. He leaned against his desk, all thoughts of troop orders and maps gone from his mind. All that mattered was finding the truth that his parents had kept from him.

* * *

Twenty-one years earlier, Helen Scifo breathed a sigh of relief as the intense agony of the past few hours cut off with the cry of a baby. For a few moments, she couldn't even think. Her mind was a muddled mess of pain, joy, and surging hormones, and she barely even heard the midwife's voice say, "It's a boy. Would you like to hold him?"

"Yes," she said instantly, and a swaddled bundle landed in her arms. For the first time, she looked down at the face of her son. Murky blue eyes blinked back at her, with a few strands of blond hair covering his pink head. "Hello," she whispered.

The door opened and Finath entered. Giving birth during her visit to Deidon Hold hadn't been the plan, but the baby had come two weeks early. Finath was only stationed at Deidon Hold for a short time, so she'd joined a caravan of traders from Zaphias to come visit him when she could. The plan was that she'd be here for a few days and then be back in Zaphias in time for the baby to be born, but her son had had other plans. Deidon Hold had a primitive medical facility, but if she'd been in the lower quarter, the midwife would have simply come to her house.

"Is everything all right?" Finath asked.

"Your wife is perfectly healthy," the midwife said. "The birth went well, though he's a bit on the small side."

"Is he?" Helen looked down with concern. He looked just like most of the other babies she'd seen in the lower quarter.

"Yes, though that's common with babies from the lower quarter. Underweight mothers have underweight babies."

Helen tightened her grip around the baby. "It's not a problem, is it?" She'd tried so hard to eat well while pregnant, but there was only so much she could do. Most of her pregnancy had been through the winter, when resources were scarce and food was harder to come by.

"Only time will tell. He seems healthy enough now. Have you picked a name, yet?"

Finath knelt by the bed and gently caressed the back of the baby's head. "We have. We're going to name him after my father."

"That's right." Helen smiled down at those sleepy blue eyes. "From now on, your name is Henry Scifo."

The door to the room burst opened and a nurse said, "Janie! Come quick, there's an emergency with the duchess!"

"Oh, dear," the midwife said. "You lot stay here and rest." She rushed out, leaving Helen and Finath staring at the closed door in confusion.

"What was that all about?" Helen asked.

"The captain's wife went into labour shortly after you did," Finath explained. "I spoke to him briefly in the waiting room. He said it had been a difficult pregnancy."

"That's terrible. I hope nothing happens to their baby." She pulled Henry closer to her chest, unable to imagine anything happening to him. They were so lucky he'd been born without major complications. Maybe he was a little small, but as long as he was healthy and happy, Helen couldn't be prouder.

They were left alone for a long time. Occasionally they heard doctors or nurses running around outside, but nobody had time to deal with a lower quarter woman and a low-ranked knight when the captain's wife was dying. The captain himself was a duke before joining the knights, with some relation to the emperor that made the health of his family eminently more important than the Scifos.

Helen didn't mind the wait. After eight hours of pain, she enjoyed the chance to relax and cuddle her newborn child. Henry had tiny ears and light eyes that she hoped would solidify into his father's beautiful turquoise colour. She gently looked over his body and found a light brown mark on the inside of his arm. She smiled and pulled his blanket closer, because a little thing like that just seemed to make him more special and unique.

Almost an hour later, Janie the midwife returned. "I'm sorry. There was an emergency."

"Is everything all right?" Finath asked.

She sighed heavily. "The duchess is dead. Her child, though, survived."

Helen and Finath hung their heads in respect.

"I'm sorry for leaving you here. May I take Henry? He still hasn't been properly weighed and measured, and you could do with a rest, dear."

"Oh, but, are you sure? I'd rather keep him with me."

"You need to sleep and he needs a proper cradle."

She looked down at Henry again with a smile. "Yes, I suppose you're right. Goodnight, Henry, dear. I'll see you again when I wake up."

Janie gently took Henry from her arms and left the room.

"I suppose I should get going, as well. My lieutenant will be expecting me back on duty now that the baby's been delivered."

"I understand. You go do your job, dear. I'm going to take a nap."

Finath kissed her quickly, and then left her to sleep.

* * *

Helen woke up the next morning to see Finath sitting by her bed with a smile. "Good morning, darling."

She smiled and sat up in bed. "Good morning. Did you have a nice night?"

"After my shift ended the boys and I had a few drinks to celebrate fatherhood. I didn't want to stay out too late, though, so I could be here with you in the morning."

"You're so sweet. I'm going to have to go back to Zaphias soon."

"So I must savour your presence as long as I can, and envy you for getting to show Henry off without me."

The door opened and Janie walked in again, Henry in her arms. "Good morning, Mom and Dad. Look who's happy to see you."

Helen leaned forward and immediately reached for him. With the bundle in her arms, she pulled him close and smiled brightly. "And good morning to you, my little…"

After a long silence, Finath asked, "Helen? What's wrong?"

Helen frowned and looked to the midwife. "Janie, you've brought the wrong child."

"I have not. He was the only one in the room."

Helen's heart quickened. "This is not Henry."

"Sure he is." Janie leaned over and lightly patted his head. "Look, he's got blond hair and blue eyes."

"Lots of babies have blond hair and blue eyes. This isn't Henry; I'm certain of it. Were there any other babies in this building?"

Janie frowned reproachfully. "Only the captain's son, but he's already picked him up."

"I'm going to find him." Without another word, Helen swung out of bed. She didn't care that she was in a nightgown and carrying an infant that wasn't her own; she was going to find her son.

"Now hold on, you can't just-"

"Don't try to stop her," Finath said, and followed her out the room. "Helen, are you certain?"

"Look at him." She held him out as much as she could while storming through the building.

Finath hesitated, and then sighed heavily. "You're right. That's not Henry."

It was a close call, and she could see how the midwife might have mixed them up, but she was his mother and she wouldn't be fooled so easily. This baby's ears were too big and his eyes were the wrong shade of blue, and most tellingly of all, he didn't have the brown mark on his right arm.

They left the medical building and crossed to the captain's tent. Helen paid no heed to the fact that she was barefoot and attracting attention in her nightgown. When they got to the captain's tent, Finath knocked on the wooden frame and she waited impatiently for him to answer.

The tent flap pushed aside. "What do you want?" He looked tired, and in Helen's determination she took a moment to remember that his wife had died yesterday.

"Sir, there has been a mistake," she said immediately.

"What kind of mistake?"

Behind him, she spotted a cradle against the wall that stirred with movement. Her heart panged; _Henry!_ "Sir, you've taken the wrong child. This is your son." She held out the baby in her arms.

The captain glared at her. "What are you talking about? Do you think I don't know my own kin?"

"It's true, sir," Finath said. "Our children were born very close together and they share some similar features, but if you look closely you'll realize that this is indeed your true son."

"What are you playing at? What, do you want to see your lower quarter brat raised in a better home? My wife _died_ yesterday, and now you're trying to kidnap my son, too?"

"Not at all, sir!" Finath said quickly, shaking his hands. "I'm sorry, but you made an honest mistake and-"

"I don't want to hear another word about this! I don't need some lower quarter rubbish telling me I don't know my own child. I wouldn't make a mistake like that."

"But, Captin Argylos-!"

"Get out of my face and if I hear one more word about this, I'll court-martial you, Scifo."

Across the tent, the baby in the cradle started crying. Captain Argylos let the tent flap fall shut as he crossed the room to comfort the child. Helen stood rooted to the spot, staring at the tent in dismay.

Through the canvas, they heard his voice softly said, "Sh… quiet now, Ioder."

Finath and Helen shared a hopeless look. What were they to do? Captain Argylos had made up his mind and he was too stubborn to even consider that he'd made a mistake. If he kicked Finath out of the Knights, they'd have no income and no way to support Henry even if they did manage to convince anyone else that they were right and the emperor's cousin was wrong.

With a heavy voice, Finath said, "Let's go, Helen."

"But… Henry…" She couldn't bear to hear her son cry and a stranger comfort him, but they had no other options. Her despair increased with every step until they were back to her room in the medical building.

"What do we do with this one?" she asked, staring at the baby still in her arms. It was stupid to blame an infant, but in that moment, she hated this child. It was his fault her Henry had been taken. If only he'd died instead of his mother, and then she'd be able to go back to Zaphias with her little boy.

Finath sat next to her, leaning on his knees. "It hardly seems right to abandon the boy."

She placed him in Finath's arms; she couldn't even bear to hold him. "I don't want him."

"What else are we to do with him?"

"I don't know." Her voice was as hollow as her soul felt. "Put him in a box on the side of the road, maybe."

Finath frowned. "He would more than likely die before anyone found him."

Why should she care? He wasn't her child. Her son had been stolen from her.

"If you and the duchess' positions were swapped…"

She met his eyes. She imagined how she would feel if she'd died before even getting to hold Henry, and if her poor little boy had been lost and abandoned. She sighed heavily; of course she couldn't abandon him. He may not be her son, but somebody had to take care of him. "You're right, of course."

"It's decided, then. Boy, you sure pulled the wrong end of the stick, little guy. You were going to be the son of a duke. You would have been a candidate for the throne."

"And now he's just a lower quarter peasant with the rest of us."

"You know, maybe this will be ok. Just think, Helen. The emperor only has one other cousin. If no other heirs are born, Henry could very well find himself as the emperor one day."

"That's true." It was hard to imagine. _Her_ son might be the emperor. She supposed at the very least that even if he never met his true parents, Henry – or Ioder, as Captain Argylos was calling him now – would want for nothing. He'd have a good home, be well fed, and maybe one day he'd be the emperor. There were worse fates to give her child.

"What do we call him?" Finath asked. "Should we still call him…?"

"No," she said instantly. "He isn't Henry and he never will be. I don't know, Finath. Pick a name."

Finath looked down at the sleepy blue eyes staring back at him and thought for a long moment. "Hm… Flynn? I knew someone with that name. Good man. Good knight."

"That's as good as any."

"Flynn Scifo it is."

* * *

Flynn lowered the diary and stared at the wall for an entire minute.

No. This couldn't be. Could it?

It was a practical joke. Yuri must have forged this to prank him. Except, Yuri had atrocious handwriting on a good day. There was no way he'd hidden a secret ability to flawlessly forge his mother's handwriting and besides, this was too cruel to be Yuri's work. He still felt sick from reading his mom's handwriting describe how she wished he was dead.

This diary was definitely his mother's. He recognized her neat hand, he vaguely recalled seeing a book like this during his childhood, and maybe it was his imagination but he swore it still smelled like her. He had no reason to believe his mother would lie in her personal diary, so he had no choice but to accept it as the truth.

He squeezed his eyes shut and rested his head against the side of his desk. _Mom loved me. She did, she really did._

Of course she did. Hadn't he read that on his first birthday? He quickly flipped through the pages to find it again, because he needed to read that confirmation.

_A year ago, I thought I would never be able to say this, but I truly have come to love this child, even though he isn't mine._

The words blurred, and at first he thought it was the emotional turmoil screwing up his vision but then he realized he was tearing up. All his memories weren't fake. She really did love him, just… she had to grow to love him when he was a baby. He wasn't the child she wanted. She'd been stuck with him and agreed to raise him because that was the kind of person she was, but during that time she came to legitimately love him and Flynn clung to that fact.

He set the diary on the ground and rubbed his eyes. What was he supposed to do? His parents weren't his parents. In fact, his parents were…

Another thought stabbed. He'd been so focused on the more important matter of whether his parents actually cared about him that another fact had taken a little while to cut into his mind. _You're Ioder_. This was as much Ioder's story as his own. Ioder… Ioder wasn't the prince after all. _Flynn_ was the prince. Ioder didn't have any actual claim to the throne… but Flynn did.

He was on his feet and out of his office before even realizing where he was going. He let his feet guide him, because his brain was too busy working through all this information. He and Ioder had accidentally been switched, meaning Flynn was the previous emperor's great-nephew. Estelle had all but officially abdicated any claim to the throne, meaning, legally, Flynn was the rightful heir.

The guards didn't hesitate to let him pass when he reached the throne room. Once he was inside, he realized he didn't know what he was doing here. Ioder wasn't in, so he stood alone in the empty chamber. With slow, echoing steps, he strode to the throne and stopped just in front of it.

He had never sat in it. Of course he hadn't; that would be entirely improper. Even though he'd been alone in here before, it had never even occurred to him to sit there. That seat belonged to the emperor alone.

But he _could_ be…

His fingers trailed along the armrest. He could be the emperor. All he had to do was show Ioder the diary. Ioder trusted him implicitly; he'd step down if he knew the truth. A quick check to see if Ioder had the birthmark Flynn's mother described Henry Scifo as having, and it shouldn't be too hard to track down the midwife who could corroborate the diary's story. It wouldn't be difficult at all, and then Flynn Scifo, a boy from the lower quarter, would be the emperor.

Fleeting images flashed through his mind. A crown and a velvet cape as hundreds of spectators bowed to him at his coronation. Sitting on this throne and giving orders that would affect the entire empire. The Council looking to him as the ultimate arbiter. Being the most powerful person in the empire, and possibly the world.

_Presenting His Imperial Majesty Flynn Scifo…_

He had to admit, he liked the way it rang. Or should that be Flynn Argylos Heurassein?

It wouldn't be hard; all he had to do was tell the truth. He deserved all of this, didn't he? It was his birthright. It had been wrongly stolen from him by his foolish birthfather, and he'd grown up poor, frequently hungry, and eventually orphaned because of one stupid mix-up.

Well… his childhood hadn't been all bad, had it? If he'd grown up in the royal quarter where he properly belonged, he never would have met Yuri. It was possible he never would have even become a knight. How different his life would be, and not all of it for the better. Helen and Finath Scifo may not be biologically related to him, but they'd done everything they could to give him the best childhood possible. It was no question that every memory of his mother was accompanied by feelings of warmth and comfort. What would it have been like to grow up as the great-nephew of the emperor, attended to by servants more often than your own parents?

It would be so nice to be the emperor and never have to worry about the Council. Most of them would probably change their tune toward him if they knew his blood was as blue as theirs. He'd appoint Sodia as the commandant and with her reforming the Knights and him reforming the government, they could accomplish so much.

But then, Ioder was trying to reform the government already. Ioder had much more experience with politics than he did, and he was still having trouble. Flynn had wanted to be a knight since the day he knew what a knight was, and he was damn good at being one. Commanding soldiers was all he had ever known, and he had helped so many people by being a knight. He _liked_ being a knight.

The door to the throne room opened and Ioder entered. "Flynn? I was told you were in here. Is something wrong?"

The words rested on the tip of his tongue. But Ioder… well, he really was doing a great job. He listened to the needs of the people and commanded the respect of the Council. He let Flynn handle any matter that needed military involvement because he realized that wasn't his area of expertise. Perhaps Ioder wasn't born into royalty, but he'd grown up in it and he knew the ins and outs of dealing with nobles and politics better than Flynn ever could.

"No, Your Majesty."

Ioder stood beside him. "Something's on your mind."

Flynn hesitated, and then asked, "If I may ask, Your Majesty… what was your father like?"

Ioder blinked and then tilted his head. "My father? Why do you want to know?"

"If it's no trouble, please, humour me."

"Hm… he was all right. He was a high ranking captain in the Knights, so he was away for most of my childhood. He died in battle when I was a teenager."

Flynn looked into his eyes, which were so turquoise. How had Flynn never noticed that before? Ioder had the exact same eye colour as his father. "Was he a good man?"

"I like to think so. I never had a terribly close relationship with him, but he always struck me as a man who would fight to uphold ideals. My mother died giving birth to me, and I believe that affected him heavily. Your father was a knight too, correct?"

"Yes." He wanted to say, _Yes, because the man you think is your father is actually mine_. What he actually said was, "I believe he served under yours. He died when I was eight."

"I'm sure they would both be proud of where we've ended up."

Yes, he was sure they would. Flynn wondered what his parents would say about how despite the odds, he'd ended up living in the castle after all. Perhaps his blood knew where it belonged all along.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you," Flynn said. "I need to talk to Yuri."

"Of course. Have a nice day."

Flynn found Yuri with Estelle as promised. He found them sitting at the table and having an animated conversation, but when Estelle saw his face, her smile dropped.

"Flynn, what's wrong?"

He thought he'd hid it better. He wasn't exactly upset anymore, just… bewildered. Yuri looked to him questioningly, and Flynn sank into the seat between them. "Yuri discovered my mother's diary today. I discovered something interesting."

"Oh?" Estelle leaned forward, her interest piqued.

"It turns out…" he hesitated, glanced to Yuri, glanced back to Estelle, and then said, "I'm adopted. My parents found me on their front step when I was a baby and they decided to raise me as their own."

Yuri's eyes flickered for just a moment, anc Flynn fixed him with an even stare. Yuri could tell he was lying, but he didn't push the issue.

"Oh, really? Wow, I wonder who your true parents are. It's like something out of a story. What if your parents are actually a king and queen, or something like that, and you're the long-lost heir to the throne!"

Flynn forced a laugh. "Please, Lady Estellise, unwanted babies are hardly unheard of in the lower quarter."

Estelle smiled sheepishly. "I supposed that's a little unrealistic. Are you bothered?"

"I admit I was at first. Mostly, I was hurt that my parents never told me. I suppose they always planned to when I was older, but they died before they had the chance. What were you two talking about?"

It was a clear end to the discussion, so Estelle hesitated only momentarily before launching into a description about a play she'd seen recently. While she spoke, Yuri shared a quick look with him. Flynn held his gaze, telling Yuri that he was all right but not to expect him to talk about this anymore.

He felt bad lying to his friends, but the fewer people who knew about this, the better. _He_ didn't even want to know about this. When he got back to his office, he would lock that diary in the bottom drawer and take every precaution so that nobody else would ever read it. Maybe it did prove that he was the rightful emperor… but he was perfectly happy with being the commandant who grew up in the lower quarter.


End file.
